


Stained

by CriticsCubby



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CriticsCubby/pseuds/CriticsCubby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were two constants during this time of uniform inconsistency: 1. Laundry Night and 2. Chinese Take Out -- Post season 9 finale, pre-IWTB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stained

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually have notes but this time I do! Thank you to the person brave enough to beta this, and for all the suggestions offered :)

**Disclaimer -** Nothing owned, nothing gained.

\-------------------------------------------

 

It was a Tuesday night. She couldn’t tell you the date, the state, or the exact time. But she knew it was a Tuesday. They’d been on the run for a while now; long enough to have a set routine...well, as much of a routine as a couple fugitives could have, anyway.

They picked Tuesdays mainly because it seemed to be the least populated day at the laundromats of Small Towns, USA. It’s not that they expected to get caught by a housewife and her pack of rowdy kids, really, they just didn’t like the stress of worrying about whether or not today would be the day their faces got plastered on the 6 o’clock news; there would inevitably be seven blaring television screens above the dryers. On Tuesdays, they were often the only ones there. 

Scully smiled as they pulled into the laundromat, a big neon sign proudly announcing its name: Nasty-2-Neat. They’d been to their fair share of laundromats, all with their own ridiculous names but this one might take the top prize. Parking the car, Scully glanced at Mulder in the passenger seat, his eyes zoned in on the Chinese restaurant two doors down. She knew this was his favorite part of the Tuesday ritual. 

“Help me unload the laundry and then you can go ahead and place our order.” He was already halfway out of the car before she finished.

Walking in, his arms full with the collapsable hamper of dirty clothes, they immediately took stock of their surroundings: surprisingly, only a single tv hanging from the ceiling in one corner, two vending machines with the predictable fare, and not a single other soul. Mulder walked over to the closest sorting table and deposited his share of the laundry. 

“We getting the usual?” he asked, pulling out his wallet to make sure he had the appropriate amount of cash ready. She nodded without hesitation, already peering into one of the washing machines to make sure it was empty. He took one more look around the place, always double checking for safety, and went back out into the night. 

\-----

“You would not believe what they wanted me to pay for extra soy sauce…” Mulder charged through the door, hands clutching two large plastic bags filled with small take-out boxes; even on the run, Mulder always insisted on ordering way more than they could eat. When Scully didn’t reply right away with her usual quip about his soy sauce addiction, he studied the scene before him a little more closely, setting the bags down in one of the chairs by the door. 

Scully was standing in front of one of the dozen washing machines, he could see the coins already in their slots. A sleeve of a shirt still clinging to the top, as if an invisible arm was trying to climb its way out of the soapy depths that awaited it. She was paused, seemingly frozen in the moment, a shirt smoothed almost flat across the top of the machine, her hand resting near the collar. As Mulder drew closer, he could see that there was a small spot of discoloration, and somehow he knew. 

She could feel him coming up behind her, but she couldn’t turn to look at him just yet. Her fingers stroking the spot on her shirt, as if she could feel there the thing that caused it to lose its vibrance. What had caused _her_ to lose a bit of her own. 

“I know I should just throw this one out.” Her voice catching as she spoke, his arms finding their way around her waist, pulling her gently towards him. She could feel her eyes start to get to that point where any amount of movement would cause them to spill over.

“I know, I know.” He wished he had something more profound to say, something that would make the hurt fade as much as that spot on her shirt had. He knew it would never go away completely, and that they really didn’t ever want it to. 

She took her hand off the spot finally, bringing it to her eyes to wipe away the escaped tears. She leaned against him more fully, taking a deep breath and trying to match his rhythm. 

“I never thought I would long for more dirty laundry.” She half-heartedly laughed, “Never thought I would get so emotional over a spit up stain.” He squeezed her middle a little tighter, no words to offer in the moment, none needed. 

They stood there for a moment, the single tv in the corner letting them know it was going to rain later and telling them not to forget their umbrellas to work tomorrow. She sighed quietly, his stomach growled not so quietly, they both chuckled and pulled apart. Scully turned towards him, reaching out for his hand. 

“Set the food out while I finish getting these in the wash?” She smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. He nodded and let go, walking back towards the abandoned take out.

“I’d offer to get that load going, but I don’t think either of us want a repeat of the Great Coral Briefs.” His eyes smiling gently along with his mouth. 

“I dunno, I was sort of sad to see you toss that pair…” She threw him an arched brow and a smile.

\-----

While the clothes were sudsing away in the wash, the Chinese food all laid out on one of the sorting tables, Mulder and Scully perched on the edges, each with a take out box in hand. Setting down his fried rice, Mulder reached for one of the fortune cookies.

“You know you’re not supposed to read the fortune until you eat the cookie.” Scully warned between bites of orange chicken.

“Who says I’m not going to eat the cookie now?” he answered, popping the cellophane wrapper open and dumping the cookie into his palm. She rolled her eyes before he looked directly into them while cracking the golden brown shell open and dramatically extracting the fortune. He read it, silently just to annoy her, and stuffed the entire cookie into his mouth at once. 

“Well? Are you going to be rich?” she asked, not able to wait for him to finish chewing first.

He set the fortune face down and brushed his hands together to rid them of the crumbs, buying enough time to choke down the rest of the cookie. Scully sat her box of orange chicken down and sat up a bit straighter in anticipation. 

Mulder looked over, picked up the fortune, and offered it to her. She furrowed her brow, but reached out readily, eager for the mystery to end. As she took it from his hand, he slid off his part of the table to join her at the other, his side leaning against hers as she read. 

_Love is a fabric that never fades, no matter how often it is washed_

Her breath hitched, and she leaned into him more fully as he lifted his arm to wrap around her. They sat there for a while, just quietly remembering. It wasn’t until the door swung open, wind sending in a bit of mist with an older woman and her laundry, that the broke apart. 

Mulder returned to his fried rice, Scully to her orange chicken. The fortune lay face up between them on the table. 

“How’s your chicken?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

“Better than the last place.” she answered, mouth still half-full. 

It was just another Tuesday night and there would be many more to come.


End file.
